


One Month And Eighteen Days

by newtporn



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Cheesy, Cuddles, Emotional reunion, Fluff, M/M, Minho graduated last year, Newt and Thomas are students, Polyamory, Thominewt, i suck at tagging :/, just a brief mention of ben, sentimental Minho, surprise visit, the Asian misses his boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 18:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4490685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtporn/pseuds/newtporn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being the eldest one in their polyamorous relationship isn’t a benefit as he thought it would be in the beginning. The two younger boys have still another half of a year in university, but Minho had graduated last year. The second (and naturally more important) semester provides a quite busy schedule for his smart-ass boyfriends. All of this particularly means that they often don’t even get to see each other on the weekends and Minho had decided on the second month of being left alone – he’s had enough.</p><p>-modern Thominewt au-</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Month And Eighteen Days

**Author's Note:**

> I'm genuinely very sorry if Minewt overpowers the Thominho a tiny bit, but basically I've wanted to write a Thominewt something for a long while now and I wanted it to be all cute and cuddly. Of course, being myself, I failed and eventually ended up writing this. I shall warn that I’ve ruined the Sassy Minho concept and kind of just sunk into the whole stuck-in-the-feels thing. Long story short - I have absolutely no idea what the fuck is this, sorry if it’s trash

The bright beam of sunlight burns through Minho’s eyeballs, as his mind slowly gains the sense of the upcoming day. His sight is merely a vivid orange cloth with tiny yellow stickmen wiggling around in a mocking dance. Minho doesn’t seem to mind though, his sanity still too far in sleeping state to actually reason. Somewhere deep inside the boy hopes that if he just ignores the intrusion of the scorching light, it might as well disappear and let him fall asleep again.

But unfortunately, fate decided that he’s had enough of sleep for today. The heat on his eyes gets a little too much, now causing pain, and the boy whines, having to shuffle the whole weight of his aching body in the bed. Without opening his eyes (because if he does so, he most definitely won’t be able to fall asleep again) the boy presses his face against his scrunched feathery pillow, letting another whine vibrate his chest. The wet touch of sweaty bedsheets under his stomach isn’t exactly comfortable.

After a moment of very dramatic mental debate whether to stay in place or get up, Minho pushes his legs down to the floor, to then lift his torso up and get into a somewhat sitting position. First thing’s first, he drags himself to tug at the curtain and get rid of the loathed sunlight.

His skin feels like rubber and legs simply refuse to listen, but Minho doesn’t care. He brushes his teeth with exaggerated laziness, annoyed at his own self for no particular reason, clumsily trying his best to make the bed in the meanwhile. Everything turns out scrunched and messy. Again – Minho kind of just doesn’t give a shit.

_Usually it’s Newt who makes the bed.  
_

The thought of having to make his own breakfast as well, pushes a heavy exhale out of the boy’s chest; the sound comes out something in between a lingering sigh and a fed up gasp.

_Usually it’s Thomas who manages the food.  
_

Being the eldest one in their polyamorous relationship isn’t a benefit as he thought it would be in the beginning. The two younger boys have still another half of a year in university, whereas Minho had graduated last year. The second (and naturally more important) semester provides a quite busy schedule for his smart-ass boyfriends. All of this particularly means that they often don’t even get to see each other on the weekends and Minho had decided on the second month of being left alone – he’s had enough.

Nevertheless, the extremely soppy and cheesy but at the same time strong feelings towards those two idiots won’t let him confront them about it, because he knows how much getting this degree means to them. So all Minho can do is wait. And he waits. He waits patiently, counting down the seconds until June when he will finally get his boys back.

After the short amount of time spent in the bedroom, thinking about how much he misses his nerds, Minho comes to a conclusion that today’s going to be one of those shitty days. Irritated at everything around him, including his own person, Minho picks a slow pace of walk to the kitchen, praying to whoever’s up there that the fridge isn’t empty.

Closing his eyes to stretch his numb muscles accompanied with a loud yawn, the Asian runs a hand through his black mess of hair and opens the fridge door simultaneously with his eyes. It takes him a whole minute to grasp what’s going on. For fair sixty-something seconds he just stares at the shelves filled with snacks he doesn’t recall buying. A few frozen pizzas, a box of cheddar cheese, chicken soup in a bowl, can full of meatballs next to the bawl of pasta, frozen hot dogs, bananas, cheesecake, a cherry flavored pie, about a dozen of different chocolate bars, two full packs of strong Kingfisher (his favorite beer), milk, an apple and an orange juices, sushi, carefully packed into plastic wrap… The fridge looks like it is about to explode.

“You’re welcome,” a voice from behind his back says and Minho turns around abruptly, leaving the fridge door to close itself. The boy still doesn’t quite catch what’s going on. “Your fridge looked bloody dreadful with two scrunched packs of ketchup from McDonald’s and a rotten tomato in it,” Newt explains, “so Tommy and I thought we’d buy you something to eat whilst you were sleeping.”

What day it is, it can’t be the weekend already, can it? Minho was sure Thomas texted him, telling that they won’t be able to come over at the weekend anyway. The big, strong boy who always seems to be in control of the situation, looses his ability to speak, move and even savvy for the few following minutes; at least that’s what Minho feels like.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, still processing the fact that his limpy is actually standing in front of him, in fact only a few-dozen inches gap in between them.

“You look funny,” Newt states, ignoring the question and eyeing the Asian with a glimpse of amusement in his eyes. He doesn’t break their eye contact, having to pull out the crisps and chips from the bags in front of him without looking at what he’s doing.

Minho indeed looks funny at this point. His usually perfect hair a big mess with dark strands randomly sticking out in every direction; large grey pj’s bottoms with SpongeBob’s pineapple on the hem of the left foot pulled onto the level of his v-line so clumsily that they threaten to fall down with each sharp movement the boy makes. Since it’s April and the weather’s pretty hot already, the Asian chose to leave his upper body naked, not to sweat in bed unnecessarily.

“I look hot,” Minho confronts automatically, without even thinking what he’s saying.

And only then it hits him. He’s talking to his lost and found boyfriend after not seeing him for a month and eighteen days (not that he was counting pffft).

Without any further weird daze-offs, Minho takes a step forward, smashing his lips onto blonde’s with so much force, Newt staggers back and grabs the counter behind his back. Minho's tanned hands rise up and cup Newt’s cheeks, looking enormous in comparison to Newt’s miniature face. He can hear Newt sigh into the kiss, can feel his shoulders going up and falling down but he refuses to let go of his boy, he waited for this moment for too long.

He’s never been the sentimental type, not in a hundred years. Minho would rather keep his feelings and emotions for himself. Is it pride that forbids him to let everything out? He doesn’t know. All he knows is that his boyfriends notice the undying love he cherishes towards the two of them and nothing else really matters for him.

He wants to let the trooped tears fall down to his face, he wants to pick Newt up and carry him around, chanting with that shuck-voice of his about how much he missed him and Thomas, when their kiss is broken apart. But all Minho does is gulp loudly, bluntly staring into the blonde’s dark eyes with their foreheads leaned against each other, his hands still embracing Newt’s hot cheeks.

“I haven’t seen you in a month,” he whispers.

“It’s been a month and a half.”

“Whatever.” Minho closes his eyes for a second to mute the voice in his head yelling that it’s been a month and eighteen days exactly and he knows that.

“I’m sorry.” Newt snakes his hands around Miho’s nape, sinking his tall bony fingers into his boyfriend’s hair, still sweaty from the sleep under the scorching sunlight.

Minho’s forehead leans harder onto Newt’s in an attempt to pull him closer. I miss you. I shucking miss you, Newt. I need both of you next to me. Nothing comes up out loud.

“Where’s Thomas?” is what his brain makes him say instead.

“He’s buying your favorite hair products but shh, that-”

"-Was supposed to be a surprise,” Thomas’s voice butts in, cutting Newt straight off on a note where the blonde’s voice was about to crack.

Thomas drops the bags from supermarket on the table and stretches his both arms in opposite directions, calling Minho in for a hug.

And just when their bodies collide to squeeze each other in a tight embrace, Minho presses his lips against Thomas's forehead with a loud sigh. Thomas buries his face in the crook of Minho’s neck and the Asian can feel the skin there getting wet from tears.

“I miss you, Minho,” the youngest boy weeps, hardening his grapple around his boyfriend’s bare torso.

Minho’s shoulders tense up and he desperately searches for the right words to say when a couple of ice cold hands rest on his skin from behind, on both sides of his neck.

“Relax,” Newt places a warm kiss on Minho’s back which pleasingly contrasts with the touch of his cold hands.

But Minho can’t relax. He doesn’t want to. In university he has always been told to try and predict the future as precisely as he could to be able to plan and prepare himself for the upcoming events. In this case that meant loosing Newt and Thomas long-term again and he couldn’t have that.

“Thank you for the food,” he says, forcing a smile while he pulls away from Thomas.

“You gonna grab anything? Cause me and Newt aren’t really hungry, we ate in campus before getting here.”

Minho simply shrugs and that shrug seems to shake the negativity off of him.

“I’d better grab both of your asses and drag you into our bedroom y’know,” he retorts with a grin.

“We only just met, for the first time in about 50 days and all you can talk about is getting into our pants, Minho please.” Newt rolls his eyes but the playful smirk plastered on his face gives it all away.

“DON’T BLAME ME you two get to do the frickle-frackle whenever the hell you want whilst I’m set here freezing my ass off, you both owe me till the end of your lives!”

“We will make it up to you, don’t you worry,” Thomas scoffs, pulling crisps out of one of the bags on the table and tossing it to Minho. “But breakfast first.”

“I don’t mind that.”

* * *

A middle-sized bag of chili Lays which has more air in the package than actual food. As for Minho, that’s a heavenly breakfast.

And as soon as he is done with it, he spends his whole day with his boys. Ben, god bless that angel, told it was no problem to cover Minho up in work.

After the exhausting but incredibly fun day in the fair, all three of them get home, beaming with huge smiles. They couldn’t have imagined their reunion any better.

Of course as promised, they head straight to the bedroom. The weather changed its concept during the day and now Minho’s room (which he still calls “our bedroom” habitually) is filled with cool air constantly refreshing itself with the help of the little breeze making its way in through the open window.

It has come to the point when all of them are shirtless but the humping is dry and pants along with underwear aren’t rushed to be tossed away. One would say that’s because Minho wants to enjoy each second of his nerds’ touch, taking things slow and blissful but how about we take a deeper look into the Asian’s soul?

The forever-horny, forever-in-charge, forever-sassy boy doesn’t exactly want the pleasure that Newt’s skillful tongue can give him and not even the weirdly soothing touch of Thomas’s hands. No, not that, not right now.

Not being quite sure of what he wants, Minho stops Thomas’s hand from slipping down under the belt area of his pants. He pulls on the boy’s wrist and when the youngest boy shoots him a confused look, Minho simply kisses his knuckles with a satisfied feeling in his chest. He wiggles his back in the bed, getting comfy by putting one of his hands under his head and pulling Thomas close with the other.

“Are you saying you don’t want me to suck you off, should I be offended?” for some reason there’s amusement in Thomas’s voice and that lights a smile up on Minho’s face.

“Cuddles are my favorite,” he says, tugging at the hem of Newt’s trousers so that the boy would join them.

“You’ve always been an idiot,” the blonde sighs, not able to help the loving smile creeping on his face.

Newt drops his weight onto Minho’s chest, pecking the boy’s stomach briefly. As soon as he nuzzles up to the Asian’s bare torso, Minho presses a long kiss on top of his head, sinking his lips into the dirty-blond desert of his boyfriend’s hair.

“I missed your stupid faces.” His brain seems to have finally overcome the weird transparent barrier that used to block those words from ever slipping his tongue.

“We know,” Thomas laughs and Minho instantly regrets his words. They made Thomas laugh, Minho can’t have people laughing at him.

“Relax,” Newt mumbles against his chest and the Asian realizes how his muscles have stiffened, just like in the morning when he was hugging Thomas.

“I can’t,” he confesses this time. “I don’t want to let you two go again. You’ve turned me into a sentimental trash so please bother to look after me and this trail of messy feelings i leave after me everywhere i go. You can’t leave me alone again.” The last words come out of Minho’s chest with a heavy sigh; it seems like the boy is on the verge of a cliff and he doesn’t know whether to jump or back the fuck up whilst it’s not too late.

“One more month. You’ll have to let us go for one more month and then we will be back. I promise.” Thomas’s voice comes from somewhere far away and Minho wonders if he’s dreaming or perhaps loosing his sanity.

“No,” he confronts harshly.

“But we’re almost there, Minho. It’s been our dream, our joint big dream since forever - to graduate and work together, you can…”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” the Asian cuts off. “I’ll wait for you two to come home and make it up to me for all the months of jerking myself off.” His words make both Newt and Thomas laugh, nuzzled up to his chest, sending waves of warm infantile tickle through his body.

 _i meant it’s not a month_ -Minho finishes his sentence in his mind- _It’s one more month and another eighteen days._ (not that he’s counting. pfft)


End file.
